Explosive Energy
by flying feather scribbles
Summary: "With a sigh, the young girl folded up her final hopes and dreams into this last letter, this last chance, and sealed the envelope tightly. Scrawled on the small piece of paper was a plea—her plea—for help." OC.
1. Letters from Fantasy

**DISCALIMER: The only things owned here is my OC Emmaline, the idea, and any poetry... NOT X-Men:Evolution (unless this is another dream of mine...)**

**Hello dearest readers! Um, to put it bluntly- this fic was not written that well, and I apologize. So, I will be gradually rewriting it. This is the first rewritten chapter; all rewritten chapters will have a message similar to this.**

**Again, please review- constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! PM me also!**

**Thanks- happy reading!**

**Chapter 1: Letters From Fantasy**

With a sigh, the young girl folded up her final hopes and dreams into this last letter, this last chance, and sealed the envelope tightly. Scrawled on the small piece of paper was a plea—_her _plea—for help. The years had simply flown by her in her endless misery, but now she had finally gathered up the courage to ask again. Whether or not help would actually result was beyond her, as this particular girl did not wish to think of what she did not wish to bear—a future ridden with death.

A passing car's headlights lit up her face, and for a precious moment, you could see her. She was pale, with long brown hair that fluttered in the breeze and oversized glasses that made the rest of her features seem tiny in comparison. Noiselessly, she stood, and slipped the envelope in its box, as she began the long walk down the dreary streets of New York that would hopefully signal the end of the long journey across the country.

The wind whispered in the trees, and the streetlights scarcely seemed to emit a glow into the overwhelming darkness on the road ahead. After what seemed like another lifetime, the girl finally reached her destination, and relief flooded her mind as she slipped the envelope under the crack of one of the store's doorways along with twenty-five cents. As soon as she heard the _plunk_ of the quarter hitting the wooden floor, the girl darted into another ally, snuggling against the all-too familiar brick wall.

It was particularly hard to bear the wait that following week. Somehow, though, she managed to stay well-hidden until Bryan's message arrived.

As always, she was asleep when it came. A gentle tap on her shoulder quickly drew her into the midst of the dream-note. Luckily it was brief, as Bryan had chosen to hide in the shadows of the willow tree again, although it was hard to concentrate due to the other dark figures floating around her.

To the most basic point, he told her to go to the mansion—they had received her note, and were as ready as they would ever be.

So later that morning, the girl spent the last of her money on a ride to the countryside, just outside of the Big Apple. As she nervously walked up to the gate, she began to wonder how much to tell them; when she had sent the letter, her thoughts were mostly of hope that they would accept her. The girl tried to breath in and out, steadily, to calm herself. It worked to an extend, allowing her to continue.

Surprisingly, as soon as she reached the tall metal gates, they opened on their own, as though expecting her. The walkway to the set of doors seemed to stretch for miles, and each of her steps shook precariously. At long last she reached the doorway, and gave three surprisingly sharp raps on the door. Inside the mansion, she could hear a pair of heavy feet stomping their way to "greet" whoever waited at the door.

A gruff man opened the door, and growled slightly at the unfamiliar face. The girl was suddenly aware of the rag-tag state of her attire, and she glanced down at the stained, overlarge t-shirt, dirty jeans, and muddy tennis shoes that hung off of her tiny body, then looked back up at the man. The strange man shook his head, then turned to the staircase and hollered, "CHUCK!"

A shiver ran up the girl's spine as she remembered who this man was—the famous Wolverine. She resisted the urge to spin on her heels and dash out the squashing the notion in her mind, she squeezed her eyelids shut momentarily to remind herself _why _she was here. When she opened her eyes a few seconds later, she saw the man still standing there, looking at her expectantly. "Come on, girly. I ain't got all day to stand here looking at you." Feeling ashamed, she quickly darted inside before Wolverine could slam the door on her. Wordlessly, he gestured to what she assumed what must be the sitting room. She nervously half ran, half walked to where he was pointing, and gently sat on an armchair, as though the floor might crumble beneath her feet.

The minutes crawled by, as Wolverine leaned against the spotless walls, arms crossed. Finally, a older man, likely in his sixties, wheeled into the room with a warm smile. _Professor Charles Xavier. _She inhaled sharply.

In a welcoming, friendly tone, the Professor began speaking. "I am glad you could come. Surely, I speak for _all _the students and teachers here when I welcome you to our home." Here, he paused, and she could see the questions hidden in his eyes.

"I'm... Emmaline, but call me Emma," she stuttered, painfully aware of the eyes just around the corner, homing in on her every word. "I... come from... um, I used to live... I mean—" Emma sighed. This was so hard. "I was born in Duluth, Minnesota. After a while, though... I just... didn't fit in anymore, and... um.._. problems _came up, so I just—left. I was... wondering... I mean, I've heard amazing things... if maybe you could help me?"

Another warm smile crept up on the Professor's lips. "Of course. You are welcome here, to stay as long as you wish. We all will help you."

Wearily, Emma followed Jean into the dining room for dinner after a tour of the house. She was very nervous to be eating with everyone—what would they think of her? Jean had seemed nice enough as she informed Emma about the mansion and herself, without prying.

Emma knew from experience, though, that people are never the same, not even close.

As soon as she sat down, she could tell she was marked down as different. Jean had offered to lend her clothes, but Emma had refused, knowing that this tall redhead's wardrobe must be several sizes too big for her twelve-year-old figure.

Dinner was... _eventful. _Emma did not know anyone's names, and even after introductions, she continuously forgot who was who. Everywhere she turned, her eyes were greeted with stares. When she retired in the guest room that evening, her head was spinning as her brain went on overload.

**So, was that better? :) :)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-flying feather scribbles**


	2. Dreamland Deems the Institute

**Disclaimer: the only character I own is Emmaline Carlson. :D**

**Hope you enjoy! Please read and review! I updated completely & started from scratch. Hope you prefer this version!**

**Chapter 2**

Emma rolled restlessly. She did not want to go to High School in the morning—she wished the professor had allowed her to go to regular middle school, or even better, let her do home school. Gradually, Emma drifted off into dreamland, no matter how hard she tried to stay awake.

_She glanced down at the boy's shirt, where red was slowly blossoming over the white, dark red blood, and he lay limply in her arms._

Suddenly, gasping for breath, Emma woke for a moment, fighting against sleep, but plunged back under, into a old memory, terrible nightmare.

"_We said—quit trying to stop us! You can't, you know so why even try?" Emma stared at the boy in the face. _

"_I don't care. YOU ARE BEING STUPID!" she yelled, anger surging through her veins. She felt herself blinded by a sudden flash of light, and then watched at the boy began to die. Compassion overtook her anger, for no matter how stupid someone's actions were, Emma's strength and weakness was that she always felt what they were, and felt terrible if she so much as squashed a mosquito. _

_But then she opened her eyes, back to the playground where everyone was staring at her. The boy who she had yelled at did not exist to them, since he was only a mental image. Emma looked into her best friend's eyes, Alexa's eyes. Inside of them she could see the fear, and then the hatred. __Before that, she had still been considered the odd one out. People came to her, and told her things in another place, while her body slept. Yet now their feelings were disclosed. Six years old though she was, with tips of infromation about where to go being whispered into her ears, she had followed. When the teacher finally came down, the kids were acting normal, the screams she had heard were gone. No one ever thought about Emma again, nor did she want them to._

Sweat running in pools down her face, she woke. Emma hated those dreams in the same way the children hated her, the fact that the dreams told her too much was overwhelming. At least she hadn't dreamed about the students.

**EMMA's POV**

Early that morning, I headed down to the professor's office. I knocked loudly, and his voice called out, "Come in." Tentatively, I sat down, hating the tension in the room. Hating the tension even though I knew just how strong a word like hate was.

"I'm not going. I can't. Bayville High won't treat me any different than... than the other kids did."

The professor calmly folded his hands, looking me in they eyes, but I averted my eyes to the desktop before I could glance at him. "Emma, I'm sure it will be different. You are much older now, and much more sure of yourself." My eyes flashed at what I felt to be ignorence, even though it truthfully was far from such a thing.

"It won't be any different! You don't realize it, do you? I was six years old-that was half a lifetime ago, but I have little more control then I did then, just more infromation!"

"No, Emma, you have gleaned control from your comprehension of your powers. The reason I am sending you so far ahead, Emma, you know very well; although you are smart, if it were not for this outside source informing you of things even I do not fully understand, you would be in your grade level. But, because you have learned of things far beyound your years, I feel you would best be educated at Bayville High."

"Pardon me, Professor Xavier, but you have not seen me angry, or even annoyed. Right now I am slighly irritated, but no, not annoyed. I can't control my powers any more than Scott can," I stated firmly.

The professor sighed. "I know full well how easy it is for you to let you attention wander for a moment and lose control but I still think you could do it if you put your mind to it."

I responded with ease, "I won't even consider budging voluntarily from this seat until you explain to me how my abilities work." Professor Xavier let out an even bigger sigh.

"Emma, your powers are very confusing. I do not think we have even scratched the surface, but I will tell you what I see fit for you to know. In the most basic sense, you can tune into different energy feilds and control them. But I am afraid the details go far beyond that. It seems that you do not tire out easily because you can unconciously absorb energy. When your emotions run high, you lose control, and if the emotion is negative, you withdraw energy, and if the emotion is positive, you will 'heal' or give energy to the subject of your thoughts. You also have the ability to 'read' their energy, and find memories, feelings, and illness. Honestly, though, the reasons of your odd dreams, predictions, and writing are about as clear as a bog." Charles pushed himself back from the desk, and looked out the window.

"I'm not going. Basically what you just told me confirmed my fears; I cannot control my powers, and am a hazrard and hindrance to others." My eyes filled with tears, and I prepared my self to go home-hunting again as I stood up to leave.

"Wait, Emma. I do think I could attempt putting some sheilds in place, and help you gain control." My eyes watered, and I swiveled around to look at him. My peircing gaze likely shocked him, but he his his emotion well. At least I had no clue as to what was going on in HIS mind of minds.

"You still can't give me a life to live. No one wants to live with a freak who can kill them by being in the same room. Who would want to be my friend? People are all alike, and you being genorous does not mean everyone else will react the same way to me. Even other mutants can't stand me! They stare as I walk by, and I don't think they care like you do. A heart can't be mended with tape, sir. 'A house is built with boards and beams, a home is built with love and dreams.' You can offer me a house, but not a home! But there is no where else is there?" I sank slowly to the floor as hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Emma, you can make my house into a home. Everyone has to make their place in the world." With that, helped me up, and I slowly exited the room, sad and happy that Professor Xavier had been so accepting, and I set my heart on making this mansion into a home, not a house. And when I set my heart on something, I do not waver in my journey.

**I hoped you liked it! The old version was terrible, and I sincerely hope this one is better. Please review! Thank you to those who have read, reviewed, and/or followed. I did this one on 9/22/12.**

**-flying feather scribbles**


	3. New News

**Disclaimer: The only character I own is Emmaline.**

**Please read, review, and maybe even follow! :D Hope you like it!**

**Chapter 3**

_**Emma's POV**_

I couldn't believe Professor Xavier had been so accepting! Maybe this place really would be different... maybe I could form a few friendships before my life went down the drain again...

There was no doubt in my mind that my life really would be ruined again eventually.

Because it always is. Just when everything feels perfect, it all blows up in my face (sometimes literally) and because there is no such thing as perfect, especially not for me.

So I began heading downstairs, to the Living Room.

I still figureed I might as well enjoy it anyway because if you don't enjoy the play life hands you, and spend all your time waiting for that ace in a game of War, you're gonna waste your entire life, so it's better to enjoy what you've got while you've got it. A memory sprung up to me; my mom used to hang sayings all over the house. One of her favorites was, "It is what it is." Tears came to my eyes, and I wondered how the littlest, Eli, was doing. It had just been Ian, Sophia, and I when I left.

I shook my head. Burying yourself in memories is not the way to go, experience told me. It was easier to just go on with life than dwell on wishes. Things that could never happen again.

_Maybe Professor Xavier WILL turn your life around permanently. Maybe you COULD go back, _a little voice in the back of my head whispered. "Shut up!" I hissed to myself. I could feel a pair of eyes boring a hole in the back of my head. I whipped around, to face the Southern boy-Sam?

His face reddened as his eyes practically popped out of their sockets. "Uh, um...," he stuttered. I felt sorta sorry for him and responded,

"Hi. Nice morning, huh? Sorry, sometimes I think way to much, and give myself a headache before my day has even started!" I beamed at him, even though it made me fell stupid. Nodding weakly, Sam stumbled over himself as he struggled to get away. Oops... overkill. I mentally scolded myself... wait a second, 'mentally scolded myself'? Sheesh, most of my life is mental (the crazy kind AND the inside-your-head kind).

At last I arrived in the Living Room. The news was blaring on about some silly election or dumb rant about politics. _Nothing's ever changed, and who says this guy or that is going to make I difference?_ I though. Nevertheless, I plopped down next to Bobby, the ice dude, trying to be as cheerful as possible. Bobby raised an eyebrow, before turning back to the TV. "Aw, this stuff is boring. Can't we just change the channel to something actually interesting?" he whined to Scott.

Kurt, the German guy, supported Bobby; "Jah, change da channel! Dis is boring, for boring people!" Scott, the guy in the red sunglasses looked hurt.

"This is important stuff, guys. It's what's actually going on in the world. It's educational, and—"

"Jah, jah, ve know," said Kurt, rolling his eyes. Kitty stifled a giggle as Kurt vanished, then reappeared next to the remote with a POOF! of smelly smoke and attempted to snatch the remote, but failed. I glanced up to the screen, and saw the news lady continuing,

"Yes, and to move on from flash floods, Jerry. Last night, a family of seven was murdered in their sleep." My eyes widened, and I strained my ears to hear where, as terrifying thoughts of my family raced through my brain. All of the sudden, the channel changed to some teenager's Rock-and-Roll contest.

I screeched, tears running down my face, "TURN IT BACK! TURN IT BACK!" at the top of my lungs. Kurt's eyes widened, but Bobby swooped up the remote, and changed the channel—to some Monster Truck show! Outraged, and glared at him, and Bobby's face paled. "That might bbe my family!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, heart racing. By the time the elder boy had turned it back, the story was over. My face was pale, and the tears seemed to be trying to cause a flash flood.

"Who has a computer?" I rasped, my voice hoarse and cracked. Someone, I didn't notice who, passed me laptop with the murder story onscreen. My eyes ran over the page as tears ran down my cheeks. "Thank God," I whispered as I found out the family had lived in New Jersey and sank down into a nearby armchair. Which happened to be occupied.

"Ger-off!" the person grouched at me. I sprang back from the seat, and whispered a quick apology before scurrying away to my bedroom, scared that I would let my anger, fear, and relief get the better of me.

**Hope you liked it! I'll try to write more soon! -flying feather scribbles**


	4. The Journals

**Hi everyone! (If anybody is actually reading this... :) ) Sorry I haven't updated for awhile, and sorry if my other chapters are short... I try to update a lot, because my chapters have a tenancy to be short. Anyway, hope you like this one! Please read, review and hopefully follow if you like it!**

**Disclaimer: The only things I own are Emmaline Carlson (AKA Emma) and the idea. **

**Chapter 4**

_**Emma's POV**_

Once in my bedroom, I tried to calm myself. _In, out. In, out. _I breathed evenly and deeply, hot tears still streaming down my face. Sometimes I wished I could wash events out of my head. Especially the part about sitting on someone. The memories of it just made me angry, and I couldn't think of a single time anger had helped me out- it made much more sense to focus on another event.

Irritated at myself, I pulled a box out from under my bed. My room was only partially unpacked, still chaos. Yet I had one way to escape from my life, my nightmare; my dreams. The kind you have when you are asleep AND the kind you wish for. Funny, my dreams had changed very little over the years. I opened my dream diary to when I could barely put together a sentence, but still found the idea of writing stuff down pleasing, since there was no one to tell, my hopes and my nightmares. It didn't make the bad stuff go away, but turned it into a puzzle to piece together.

_Nuvumber 1, 2006_

_I dremed ov a man. He waz mene but nise with lot ov red. I wan t to see Mom and Dad and Sofi and Een. I mis them. Brian sitz with me until I fall aslep at nite. I am glad to se som one I now. _

That was my first entry. My spelling was terrible, but I was only six.

Only.

As if that word meant something to me.

It meant the world. Everything. Because I had never been 'only'. I had always been more.

I was my own worst enemy.

Flashbacks were always trying to overcome reality, and ghosts of the long-lost past told me their stories. Not many four-year-old's listen to the story of an unsolved murder mystery, huh? But I was that kid.

There was some reasoning behind my disappearance.

Some reasoning indeed.

I headed downstairs, to the kitchen. No one was there. Faintly, in the distance, I heard the noises of vehicles driving away. Everyone else was at school. Just me and the teachers. My stomach growled angrily. I tip-toed over to the cupboards, quietly, as if to make a loud noise were a crime. I supposed because in some places, it was a crime. They creaked slightly when I opened the first two. Bowls and plates were in messed up piles. I grabbed a bowl. In the next cupboard there were glasses and mugs. After snatching up a glass cup, I opened up the next one to find cereal. There seemed to be hundreds of different kinds floating in front me. With a fast reflex of the hand, I took a box of Frosted Mini-Wheats. Inside of the refrigerator, it was a simple task to find the milk, and the drawer to the left of the dishwasher, was it turned out after many trials, the silverware drawer.

My breakfast made, I sat down. Fishing a book from the messenger's mag always slung around my shoulder, I was completely at home. My eyes ran across the pages of words- _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_, a familiar favorite- as my hand raised spoonfuls of cereal and milk to my mouth. When my cereal was gone, I gulped down the glass of tap water, and placed the dishes in the sink, with mounds of other dishes laying there.

I wondered who did the dishes. Probably Ororo, the woman with the white hair, who seemed to do much of the housework. I felt bad for her, having seen what mess the living room was already. I lay out towels on the counter, and began scrubbing. Once the dishes were washed and the counter and table wiped, and the dishes put away, I sat down in the living room to read some more of my book.

It was glorious- to say the least. I was buried in someone else's troubles, someone else's world, someone else's life. A place of magic woven of words was before me, and I loved it. Who wouldn't? It was paradise, pure gold to me. At many points of my life I have lived off of these very words, as they had given me hope, and my fondness for them had not diminished over the years; instead, it had gradually strengthened, until now, when I could recite entire chapters from memory. I clung to the words like a drownding man clings to driftwood, my one hold on the world, the thing that kept me going. Harry had lost his family just like I had, and even though mine were not dead, they might as well have been, leaving out the fact that I was constanty worried. But this was my relief-water in the desert, and I treasured every moment.

Approximately an hour later, I was tired of sitting, and figured I had better finish unpacking, and trudged upstairs. In my room, I bothered to glance around. The walls were a simple light brown, which was fine with me, even though it was not the color I would have chosen. My window had a very pretty view over the back grounds, the creme windowsill framing it. My twin bed had a lavender quilt with a few pink flowers scattered over it. The wardrobe was made of nice wood, solid, and mostly filled with clothes 'donations'. Professor Xavier, seeing how I had so few outfits, kindly asked all the girls to give him their old, outgrown stuff they didn't want. My bags littered the floor. The toiletries had already been placed in the bathroom, my clothes in the wardrobe, and my messenger's bag organized. However, everything else still had to be unpacked.

I grabbed at my backpack, full of my notebooks, diaries, and journals. I had always written down the things constantly floating into my head from the idea clouds (ha ha, I never could put good jokes in context). An old dream diary from when I was seven, in year two, fell open. My eyes wandered to the first entry, where my spelling had definitely improved, thanks to nightly grammar lessons.

_June 20, 2007_

_I dreamed terrifying things last night. I am scared. A guy who grew up in a log cabin a long time ago in the 1800's was shot because someone did not like the good things he did. I saw the whole thing right in front of me. I have been crying all morning. Why did the gun man kill the nice guy? It is not fair._

_I also dreamed my other life. The one where no one is weird. I wish that were my life some of the time._

My writing style was still crude, but at least I could spell that time around. Suddenly angry at my past, I crammed all of my books into a box under my bed. My tears dripped down from my chin, staining the carpet in an odd way. Sometimes I really hated reality. Sometimes me.

And other times I just hated life.

**I really hope you enjoyed this recent addition. Now, if anyone is actually reading this, thank you for reading! Please review, and if you like it, follow! Oh, and to La Licorne, thanks for telling me what I did right & wrong. Helped me A LOT... that chapter WAS terrible... but the 'futile attempts' to read her mind weren't Professor Xavier OR Jean Grey... Oh well I removed them anyway. Anyhow, hope you liked it!**

**-Flying Feather Scribbles**


	5. Jake and his Jokes

**Hey, everyone who is reading this! Thank you to La Licorne, for reviewing again! You should have seen me-the grin that spread across my face was so goofy that people kept asking me why I was smiling... (of course I said why not). OK, I'm gonna try my best here, Rahne's POV. But if I do a terrible job (& please tell me if I do!) then I'll just rewrite the chapter like I did with another chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I only own the idea & Emmaline Carlson (AKA Emma)**

**Chapter 5**

**Rahne's POV**

I walked home. It was one of THOSE days, where the teachers decide they hate you and give you loads of homework, get you in trouble for stuff you didn't do, and then the kids hate you every day anyway. But, like I've always said, why bother complaining? If Jubilee or Jamie had been walking home with me, then I would have been having a cheerful conversation. However, Jubilee was in detention for losing her temper in gym and slugging a boy who teased her, and Jamie had managed to catch a ride somehow, while my locker was jammed with something some mutant-hater had done to it, and to make a long story short, forty-five minutes later, here I was, strolling home alone.

After awhile, I started to get bored, and started sniffing around. I was not paying very good attention to where I was going, and tripped over a- wait, what was that? When I got up and looked, all I saw was a strange man with a stiff suit on.

Ugh. I hated suits, not that I'd ever worn one, but they were so darned formal. The man gave me a crisp nod, and continued on his way. Ignoring his rudeness, I gave a quick smile, and went back to sniffing. A familiar scent greeted me, a newer one, yet one I knew. Someone new... I racked my brain, and finally came to the conclusion; Emma?

I started. What? Maybe the man had been visiting Emma. I ran back up to him, and tugged his hand.

Immediately, some odd transformation took place. All of the sudden, I was gripping a sobbing Emma's arm. She looked me directly in the eyes, and said, "Help me."

Startled, I let go of her hand. The man was back, giving me a scornful look. I grabbed him by the shoulder, and he whirled around to face me.

"What-? But-"

The man gave me a cold look. "Miss, I would appreciate it if you allowed me to continue on my business."

I stuttered, "Of course, sir," and ran back to the Institute as fast as I could, morphing into wolf form as soon as I reached the grounds. Fur sprouted everywhere, and my skin stretched tight with my bones, then loosened as I became a dog. Bounding past a startled Ororo who had just opened the door to go outside, I leaped up the stairs, panting, until I reached the professor's office. Panting, I morphed back into human form, the fur receding just as Professor Xavier opened the door.

"Rahne, what is wrong?" he asked, ushering me in.

Trembling, I opened my mouth, but only succeeded in biting my tongue. Gently, the Professor offered, "Would you prefer me to probe your mind?" I shakily nodded, and closed my eyes as the professor quickly went over the recent events in my mind.

Drawing back, he looked at me.

"Oh dear."

**Emma's POV**

Hyperventilating, I stared at Rahne in the eyes, and rasped, "Help." Terrified, she dropped my arm, and I was forced to succumb over to Jake's control.

Jake lifted an arm, and turned frostily to Rahne. Immediately, I pitied her; Jake could be very intimidating when he wanted. Like now. I blocked out the conversation, not wanting to see my acquaintance's reaction.

I really hated Jake. He was a terrible politician, who longed for world power. Whatever subtle part had sensed me a few years ago when I had brushed my mind against his, seemed convinced I was the key to his goal. Surprisingly, he was very adept at taking me over and manipulating me into giving him control. Unlike most, the inner part of him did not detest mutants like he pretended, but rather saw them as tools.

But the outer part of him had no idea he was taking over innocent children.

Unfortunately.,

At least I retained the ability to think while he used my body. Truthfully, though, it would be extraordinarily difficult to regain control unless someone helped me- i.e., touched me skin-on-skin, hence giving me someone to anchor to and then pull myself up.

And, most unfortunately, that chance had just run down the street in a state of sidewalk.

Of course she had. This IS my life we're talking about.

Since when does anything in my life go in the right direction? It never had, and probably never would.

_Never say never, _protested that annoying positive voice in the back of my head that seemed intent on always pestering me. Most people have a negative little voice, but I have a positive one, which tends to be very successful in annoying me.

That's the point of a conscience, isn't it? To annoy you into doing the right thing.

Good luck with that. My final thought before I gave in and decided to give myself a little rest, to see if anyone would rescue me.

Like that would ever happen to ME.

**Hope you liked it! Thank you again, La Licorne, for reviewing! Oh, and I will try and fix some of those little mistakes soon, probably this weekend. Tests this week!**

**;)**

**-flying feather scribbles**


	6. Hearts cannot be mended with tape

**Hi! All right, I didn't get any reviews on the last chapter yet, so I guess I'll just plow right on ahead. Thank you, La Licorne, for reviewing chapter 4- I am glad you liked it! Actually, I am delighted you liked it; you should have seen my face, lighting up with another of those silly grins. Anyways, to get going with the actual chapter: sorry if you don't like this one, either because you didn't like the last one, and so don't like this one, or just don't like it. But please read and review (I really enjoy constructive criticism, like La Licorne's, because otherwise how should I know what I'm doing wrong and right? ;D). **

**Disclaimer: I only own Emmaline and the idea, nothing else!**

**Chapter 6**

Charles looked at Rahne. He was uncertain; Emma had mentioned that she was surprising, but talk about out of the ordinary. Perhaps this was a hallucination, that Rahne's, Emma's, or someone else's mind had conjured. Yet it did not seem that way- the memory was clear, not hazy, and the edges of the transition between the man and Emma were so blurred they would have been nonexistent to any telepath but Charles Xavier. Rahne's mind had not even seen the change—only the difference in appearance was apparent to the girl.

No, it was not a hallucination. But what else could it be? That it was real, and what Rahne had saw was what was there, seemed to be the only reasonable explanation. However, that was not his primary concern now; Emma was. Rahne was only scared, and was unharmed, but whatever was wrong with Emma must be serious, if anyone could guess what she could do. Charles quickly scanned the institute, and the grounds, but did not find Emma.

He thought back to their first conversation, a few days ago, upon her arrival. Emma had mentioned that she had some form of what he guessed to be a telepathic bond, with many different minds that she had visited over the years. From her tone, he had supposed they meant trouble, but Emma had seemed reluctant to explain further, and Charles was polite and respected his newest student's wishes for privacy, and also felt the need not to push her, Emma being remarkably unstable.

These minds... could they have strengthened this connection against Emma's will? This seemed very unlikely to Charles, as this would be difficult unless they either hosted some very strong desire which she could fulfill, or were accomplished telepaths. Hmm... a desire she could fulfill... that seemed most likely of the other options, which numbered few, but the chances of that happening were small. Maybe her mind rebelled against her? This seemed most likely to happen with most people, but Emma, well, seemed quite confident with her mental capabilities (everyone had them, just telepaths were much stronger and much more in control, with far more options, but most people could put up a basic shield.)

First, Charles had to find her before anything could be done. He said to Rahne, "Rahne, it's fine. Everything is under control. Don't worry. We can fix this. Why don't you head to the kitchen and get a cup of tea from Ororo? She was making some already, so head right on down, it's fine." Charles ushered her downstairs, then headed for Cerebro to find Emma.

**Emma's POV**

I felt someone looking for me. My mind was always extra-sensitive when I was in this state, which was both good and bad, depending on the circumstances. Now, it was a good thing, and gave me hope. Momentarily, I felt my heart beating, blood surging through my veins, then I was back, trapped in my prison.

Jake had taken over only the part of my mind that made me move and speak, see and hear. I could still examine what was going on, but I had no control over what I did at this point. However, I had full access to my mind, allowing me to think. Sometimes thinking is good, and helps. Other times, you over-think a situation, and make it more complicated then it needs to be. But now, I was utterly calm, and peaceful, although not content.

Funny, though... In recent times, I had pondered the idea of completely abandoning reality and living in one of my happy dream-worlds. I eventually gave up the idea, but only because I was terrified that I would get stuck in a nightmare. A lot of them were nightmares, a select few were happy, far to many were sad, many were real life happening as it did, and some were memories.

One that had always stuck with me was the time one of my many cousins gave me a bookmark. It had said, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." She had said she made it in Bible camp, trying to explain to a two year old. It was before my third birthday, before my mutation presented itself to me. I had no idea of what Bible camp was. I had never been to church. My mom said she believed in God, but that was all I ever got; my dad refused to talk about the subject. I was fairly neutral on the whole thing: it was people's choice what they wanted to believe, not mine. End of subject.

The saying stayed with me though, although I carried little regard for the memory—too young to realize her kindness in giving one of her handmade creations to me, a person only slightly older than a baby, and very likely to tear it to pieces. She had given it to me, and I still had it.

I had brought it everywhere I'd ever been. Which was a lot of places. I spent years moving from Minnesota, on the border of Canada, all the way to the countryside of New York.

'The big apple'. That's what they called New York City. Where Jake was heading...

I hated the place with all my heart.

Sure, there was a certain glamor, but glitz and glamor and glitter never suited me—just stuff on the surface, the pretty painting on the ugly, disfigured thing itself. Full of crime, thieves ran loose around the place. Yeah, there were officials, and some were caught, but far to many went about the streets. That wasn't what bothered me about them—it was the fact they were miserable, low, feeling helpless, worthless, or so selfish they stole. Many, I understood why—it was life or death, nobody had ever had or ever would help them—but many were full of greed.

Greed. The horrors it had bestowed upon mankind. One of this world's attributes I most detested. There were few I disliked more, other than war and hatred. All they brought was destruction and hurt. I didn't mean property. I meant people's hearts. Because so many people are like me—they hurt to the heart. Everyone gets hurt to the heart in someway.

Hearts can't be mended with tape. I knew that much.

***

Charles had located the girl, at long last. A half hour ago he had sent out Ororo and Logan. They would be able to help Emma recover herself, hopefully enough to bring her back to the mansion, and then Charles would help the girl. Give her support. Emma was a building leaning on one support; never a good thing. She needed someone, something to lean on.

And he was there to help her, as were the others here.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder and gently lift me up. A battle of words had wound itself around me, from Jake and whoever had come for me. Too fast to register in my tired mind, at long last it was all over. In the good way. Now I could rest, have a break, for a few hours, until the next curve in the road.

A gentle smile curved its way up my lips. My head fell to the man's shoulder, and I slowly nodded off, the warmth inside of me beating the chilly late October winds.

Logan carried the girl, Ororo falling in stride behind him. This had been a unique battle between opponents, one of words—not the kind he liked, but the job was done now. The girl was safe. He glanced down at her resting figure, a miniature smile plastered upon her face. After so much, she managed to smile.

He found the corners of his mouth twitching up, and found the same look on Ororo's face, one that mirrored his own.

Leaves crunched beneath their feet as they walked the last block to the mansion. There was a long conversation inside awaiting him. He wished this moment could last forever. Logan sighed. Life went on; he knew that well enough, as he should after this long.

**The end! Of the chapter I mean. Of course not the end of the story! Silly me. I hoped you liked it. Sorry if the end of the chapter wasn't great. It's really late but I'm posting it anyway. Hope you enjoyed reading the latest addition! I changed some of my mistakes in the previous chapters too, so if you're bored or something please read them! Please review-I'm starting to feel lonely. Is anyone reading this? Even if you're anonymous, PLEASE review. :) Thank you if you just decided to. :) Well bye for now (until I update)!**

**-flying feather scribbles**


	7. Friends are the Family We Choose

**Oh my gosh! THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! :) I am so glad you like it! OK now I am totally updating NOW! :) Oh, and if you want me to do a specific character's POV just PM me or put it in a review! Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: Like said in all other chapters, only own the idea and Emmaline, nothing else!**

**Chapter 7**

**Emma's POV**

_Looking around, I groggily open my eyes. There I am, lying in a dirty apartment. Fear surges through me... what if Dad is home? I push my bangs down, and stand up. My legs are sore and bruised, so I fall back down. Suddenly, from around the wall's stained corner, stumbles a middle-aged drunken man. His eyes swivel toward me, bloodshot. I am angry; he is the one who hurt me! _

_My hands start to buzz, and a explosion blows through the room, destroying everything. My head feels fuzzy, and then everything is red and black..._

I moan in my sleep. Once again, here I am: trapped in my own body. Faintly, my mind feels... open. I take a look around the strange place called me, and see only that, me. Jake is gone! I feel happy now. Like I'd be content this way for a long time. A really, really long time...

Forever.

That word popped into my head, and it was perfect. I was content, maybe even a bit happy. Why should I bother to go through the work of rousing myself? I was fine, safe, most likely since I was still perfectly OK. In this state, I could browse the world, immerse myself in other people's lives, both real and fictional.

The possibilities were endless. I could go into my memory of Harry Potter and all the other beloved, ragged paperback books I had read countless times. I could journey through the world, learning the good things. I would likely get better as time went on, more in control, and select memories I wanted to replay, perhaps live in a fictional place in some deep corner of my mind... so many options...

Better get started!

**Professor Xavier's POV**

He looked at the small girl sitting in the infirmary. Charles had listened to all accounts of the story, and still couldn't believe Emma was alive, let alone so... unscathed. _So many wonders to be found, the longer you live..._ Charles had also scanned her mind; he knew the facts, now he just had to put the... 'options' into play.

Folding his hands he calmly thought about the situation. From what he knew, she was still mentally intact. However, she seemed unwilling to "come back to earth" as some might put it. In Emmaline's opinion, there was no point.

Charles sighed. The girl, despite her experiences, still retained a few qualities of those so young. At this point, it was highly unlikely any amount of persuading by him would make a difference. No, it would best come from a peer, someone to relate to. From there, if he could build up a relationship, a tie to this place, the healing part would, although time consuming, be simple—compared to this.

But first she had to find a friend. Someone she would trust. Jamie? Might as well try, perhaps she would enjoy his innocence. Jubilee? Unlikely, but worth a small attempt. Rahne? Yes, that would be a good one, as she had led to her freedom from the clutches of that man.

Charles shuddered; what horrible intentions.

Back to the subject. Kitty? Too young, girly. Still, he would give it a try, even if he doubted Emma would enjoy the other girl's sympathy, no matter how well Kitty meant. Roberto? Yes, worth a try, as confidence was something Emma wished for, unknowing she already had it. Bobby? No, not a good choice, but still, better give him a try, just in case. Ray? Not likely either, yet Charles knew he must try everyone—the more ties Emma had here, the better and easier this would be. Kurt? Yes, a definite choice, because Kurt could understand feeling different, and was good at making people laugh. Laughter could do wonders. Amara? No, and no, but still he'd try her. Rouge? He'd try it. Jean? Certainly. Scott? Maybe. Sam? Why not. He worried about his family too.

And so on.

**Jamie's POV**

Jamie smiled at Ororo, wondering what she needed his help for. No one ever seemed to want his help around here. Ororo said, "Here, Jamie. The professor wants to talk to you."

Ororo walked away, and Jamie turned to face the professor, wondering why they were in the infirmary hallway. Professor Xavier smiled at Jamie, before clearing his throat and saying,

"Nice to see you Jamie. You're wondering why we are here, outside one of the Infirmary rooms? Remember Emma? Well, she has taken ill, most unfortunately, and really needs a friend. I would appreciate it if you came in and visited for a while, and if she wants you to, and you are willing, come back, say, every evening?"

Jamie nodded. He'd be glad to help someone out! They walked in, quietly. The room was medium sized. The curtains fluttered in the light, cool breeze. Oddly, there were no machines beeping, like there normally were in a hospital room, when someone was sick. On the bed, a tiny figure lay. She was very pretty, laying there on the bed, and appeared much younger than when Jamie first met her. Long brown hair was draped over the pillow, and a pair of glasses were folded on the bedside table. Professor Xavier nodded to the plush chair next to the bed before wheeling out of the room.

Hesitantly, Jamie sat down. "Um, hi."

The room was absolutely silent. Jamie was afraid to say anything more, but something inside of him told him to.

"My name's Jamie. I'm thirteen. Uh, your age, I think." The room was still. Jamie felt a tug, to tell more. "I, um, my codename is, erm... Multiple. Lots of people call me runt though." Jamie scrunched up his face.

Suddenly, a light laugh, like soft wind chimes, rang through the room.

Jamie jumped, making three more of him, and accidentally upturned the chair. All four Jamies blushed miserably, and put the chair back up, before three disappearing with a loud POP! Jamie glanced, ashamed, at Emma. Surprisingly, a faint smile was on her face. Jamie smiled too, before beginning to jabber like a Blue Jay.

**OK sorry this is short. Sorry, I know that's a really bad place to end. But I'll update soon, I promise! Oh, and thank you, all my reviewers! I have been smiling a lot more lately. **

**(Hint: the more reviews, the faster this feather scribbles.) **


	8. Running Out of Options

**Sorry I haven't updated in so long! Too many tests. :( THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all of you who have either read, reviewed, followed, or favorited! Those keep me going! Alright I'm going to try my best but tell me if I do a terrible job. :)**

**Chapter 8**

**Kitty's POV**

Kitty huffed irritably as she walked back inside. Why on earth had Scott drove away like that—she could have drove everyone to the baking contest and then competed! There was nothing wrong with her cookies—were there? Scott wasn't allergic to peanuts, Kitty was pretty sure, since he had been eating them last night when they were all watching TV in the living room.

As soon a she had walked through the doors, the professor came wheeling up to her. "Kitty, would you mind coming with me, to help a friend of mine?"

Kitty grinned. "Like, sure, Professor X! Should I, like, bring some of my cookies with?" The professor's face scrunched up into an odd expression when he glanced down at the cookies, before returning to normal.

"No, Kitty, the cookies will not be necessary. Perhaps you could put them in the kitchen for others to... enjoy?" Kitty's face lit up.

"What a great idea! Thanks professor! Like, I'll be right back!" Kitty ran off to the kitchen and artfully arranged her precious desserts on the plate.

The explanation the professor gave Kitty about Emma was basically the same as he had given to Jamie. Now, here she was, walking into the room. Kitty shuddered; she was no big fan of infirmaries; they were cold and bare, unforgiving and heartless. She walked over to a chair beside a bedside table.

"Uh, like, hi. Sorry you're feeling down... maybe you'll feel better tomorrow?" Nothing stirred, and the room seemed even more hostile than before, if that was possible. The place just seemed to have a lingering feeling of dread and unhappiness, as though smiling were forbidden. The silence was frosty and becoming creepier by the minute.

Kitty shivered. She wondered how long she had been sitting here. The steady ticking of the clock had become monotonous, a sleepy rhythm. Time crawled by with the speed of a snail... ew, slimy snails, gross. A chilly breeze swept through the room, and Kitty jumped from her chair, backing out of the room.

"How did it go, Kitty?" the professor asked.

Kitty shook her head. "That room is creepy. It's like she knew I was there and hated me for coming. I don't know..." The professor's face remained solemn.

"It's fine, Kitty. Don't worry about it. Emmaline can be picky. You may head back downstairs now." Kitty was quite happy to.

**Professor Xavier's POV**

Charles sighed. It had been nearly four weeks now, and this was getting exhausting. Nothing seemed to help much. Jamie visited every evening after dinner, and Emma was happy during that time, but it was not convincing her to come back. He was trying, but Charles was running out of options.

Emma hadn't taken to Jean, Scott, or Rouge, probably because they were so much older. Bobby had deeply offended her with his jokes, as he had not realized what her life had been like, and tried to make jokes, that were not funny to Emma, but cruel. Rahne had been very nice, and they had a god time together every Tuesday and Thursday, but there was no progress as far as waking Emma up.

Sam had stuttered and stammered his way through visits every Monday and Friday, and was finally warming up. However, they had yet to share a conversation more in depth than school. There was still hope, Charles supposed; as least Sam's English grade had slightly improved.

Kurt had visited twice, and Emma was starting to forgive him for spraying whipped cream all over the walls, not that she cared about the walls, but it was, she had said, a waste of perfectly good whipped cream.

Jubilee had not ended up having a good time; at least Jamie had helped Ororo clean up the broken glass on the floor and burn marks on the wall.

Roberto visited every Wednesday now but this was just making them both sad, and Emma seemed to withdraw more after these sessions.

Kitty had just proved himself right yet again.

And he'd rather not think about yesterday or the day before.

Yes, Charles was definitely running out of options. The only person who had yet to be tried was Ray, And Charles had been procrastinating his visit for very good reason. He had a feeling Ray wouldn't appreciate all of Emma's abilities, especially since... never mind, he would cross that road tomorrow.

And he would make sure to have the Danger Room ready for Ray.

**OK I will try and write the next chapter soon I'm really sorry this one is so short I have been super busy. I hope you liked it! ;D**

**Don't forget to review!**

**flying feather scribbles**


	9. Reality Stings

**Chapter 9**

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything except the idea. :D**_

**Sorry it's been so long since I've updated- my mom wasn't doing so great, and life caught up with me… so, yeah, here's the next chapter! Hope you like it! **

**Please read, review, and maybe even favorite or follow!**

**EMMA'S POV**

Now it had been ages, or at least it felt that way. Might as well have been here all my life. (Like anyone noticed me anymore.) I already knew the world's greatest danger. It wasn't even hard; only had to look for it in one person's memories. Mine. _Should have known it from the start—hearts are made to be torn apart_. Really, it held little surprise, just hurt. Reality stings.

No one knew the real reason I had come here._ The web of lies, too much for any of the spies, for it was woven of hate and despise_. Not even me, at first. Ha—I hid things from myself. Should have known.

_People were born to die;_

_Death was the soul of lies._

I had not been digging my own grave. If only! I wanted the tears to come. Sear the tears in my soul. _Make my heart ache, if only for goodness' sake! Pool the puddles into a salty lake. Icing on the cake. Make life more real, make my mind feel! If only to lead the path for others to heal_. I wanted to feel sad, defeated. Yet the overwhelming feeling of victory surged through my mind. THIS was my nature, the strings that held me together. I was programmed for this; it was in my blood.

I was always thinking I was made to save the world. I never actually thought it in my conscious mind, but it was a wild, free cloud that rode through the slightest corners of my mind.

No, it had never came to me that I was made to destroy every living thing on earth.

Especially not in the universe.

**Ray's POV**

Ray walked slowly into the room, feeling annoyed. Just get it over with, he told himself. Then he would go off, and it would be all over with.

However, when he glanced around the room, it was-

Shockingly empty.

Seriously. The only thing in here was the room itself.

Out of habit, Ray swore. It was just what Ray did when irritated.

That didn't make Professor Xavier and Ororo any less confused, though, when Ray walked out of the room- well, swearing. They gave him a puzzled look as he stomped over to the DR to beat up some holographs and various other deadly things. Just a shake of the head.

**OK, sorry this is short but I promise to update soon! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS- ****_you guys are awesome!_****Tell me what you think of this newest addition!**

**-****_flying feather scribbles_**


	10. Death is Numbing

**OK sorry that once again it has been so long since I've updated. Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and supported me in any way. I'm thinking about doing another story on the side... Emma's diary entries. Tell me what you think about that—now, never, maybe later? **

**YES! TENTH CHAPTER! **

**Disclaimer: I've said this every chapter (I think; at least most) before; need I really tell everyone again? I do not own anything but the idea + Emmaline + the poem (I wrote it). :D**

Chapter 10

**EMMA'S POV**

I was gone. For good. Really, choosing between myself and the world wasn't hard—I'd only been hanging on by a thin strand. I was glad that people had tried to help me, but how had I expected them to help when I never told them the complete and absolute truth?

Now I had no reason to keep the secrets down, from myself, any longer. Everything about me was tired, but I still wouldn't die. I wanted to, yet my mutation simply would not stop; I had zero control.

Walking out of the Institute was the easiest thing I had ever done. It was like I was finally going home, by leaving there. People cared for me at the Institute, but I cared for them more. Each person in the world—I knew them. I was no stranger to death,defeat, sorrow. Just think of how many people are born, living, and die every day. S many, I had long since lost count. So much was out there.

One more person dead, me, the world would scarcely feel anything. I was barely apart of this place anymore. The only reason I was still alive was my mutation.

Ever since I was three years old I had been absorbing everything around me, and whenever my emotions went even slightly up or down, I withdrew more energy. However, even once my emotions were 'normal' again, the amount stayed the same. It didn't take me long to notice how quickly I healed..

I was a physically perfect example of a human being, but imperfect in every other possible way.

Now, nine years later... I wasn't even a teenager yet and already I could tell where this was going.

Every heartbeat counted now, because now that my hours, my minutes, numbered so few, each second, every moment was crucial.

Previously I had experienced so many emotions at their peak. Right then, I could feel someone in Africa dying. An arrow protruded from his chest, and trails of warm blood ran down his shirt. Then he was gone. I didn't even cry; I was numb with pain, I had felt too much.

Lives, living and dying.

Each moment.

_It's gonna take a hundred years_

_to cry all these tears._

_I bear your burden,_

_sing your song,_

_been following all along._

_It's gonna take a thousand years _

_to cry all these tears._

_I look in the world's mirror._

_And do not like the sight that greets me;_

_does life hate me?_

_It's gonna take a million years_

_to cry all these tears._

_You can't mend hearts with tape_

_Only send your sorrows through_

_letters of tears._

_It's gonna take a trillion years_

_to cry all these tears._

_The greatest of my fears is war._

_Fir hearts are torn, and minds are worn._

_Sometimes I feel as though I have yet to be born!_

_It's gonna take a zillion years_

_to cry all these tears._

_I page the album, staring at the past_

_wishing moments of glory could last_

_not speed by so dearly fast._

_It's gonna take an eternity of years_

_to cry all these tears._

_I feel the world's pain,_

_for all is lain out plain_

_for me to see, _

_the veil is torn._

_It's gonna take way to many years_

_to cry all these tears._

_Cherish the moments of joy!_

_Bask in the smiles, they will last for_

_a thousand miles._

_Ignore the dim ploys..._

_Sing the glory song with me._

_For all to hear and to see!_

_My eyes are dry_

_I heave not one sigh,_

_as the years pass by._

_Why?_

_I am so sad,_

_ad think only of moments glad. _

_I didn't waste all my years_

_with all those tears._

Years ago, I actually believed that. On page 52 of my diary from when I was eight, I had composed it. The night came back to me:

_Curled up in a ball, the young girl sobbed. She had walked all the way from northern Minnesota to Michigan, through so many states, so many miles. Another pang hit her heart as another life ebbed away, joining her side. _

_The pale figures beside her whispered. Some were comforting, scary, or just sad; it didn't matter. She wanted them gone! Next to her, she could feel Brian's presence, but she didn't want even him._

"_Write." _

_The only word he said, but it held so much meaning. Sensing its importance to the girl, the others took up the cry. At last, she snapped open the notebook. Instantly, they were gone, as the pen flew across the page._

How many times had I sang myself to sleep with those very words, finding comfort within?

Suddenly, I tripped over a stone. I had arrived. This place would likely be forever marred with my blood. Yet this did not matter; let the world see my mark laden across these stones for all of eternity, for I was saving them from me.

As soon as I found out _how _to die, that was.

Professor Xavier quickly figured out what had happened. Emma had left; but why? Then it hit him. Why she was gone.

"Ororo, come with me. To Cerebro. And round up the older student, please. This will have more risks involved than that which meets the mind."

**So? What do you think?! :)**

**flying feather scribbles**


	11. Death's Embracce Life's Kiss

**Hello everyone! (Well... mostly aven91... I don't know if anyone else is actually reading this as no one else reviews!) Before this starts, I would like to remind everyone that I do ****_not_****support suicide or murder... it's for the story, OK? :) And thank you for reading, everyone! **

**Oh, and I've got another story about Emma called "Diaries of the Dead" if you're intersted.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but Emma, the poetry, and the idea. :)**

**Chapter 11**

_Emma's POV_

Death. So simple a word. The end—same thing. Once you were dead, no one was destined to see you again... except me.

_Let me go._

_This is too much knowledge for one person to know._

_Let me die._

_I'm tired of living life's lows and highs._

_Let me rest._

_Listen, you know I've failed the test._

_Let me feel._

_I'm tired of the unreal._

_Let me go._

_I'm ready, I don't want the world's woe._

_Let._

_Me._

_Go._

They expect me to carry this... _thing_ but not to treat me like I am anything but a child? We're all the same; we are all going to die in the end. There is no immortality but that of a legacy.

I have been dead for years. On the inside. My heart beats, but yet it doesn't.

_I have been as good as gone, hanging on by a thread..._

_my heart is as heavy as lead. _

_I know not what direction to head..._

_For I am of the living dead._

_Let me, this body shed._

_All that is needed has been said._

_Let me lie down and die, in this rock bed._

_Because I shouldn't be alive._

So I succumbed to the call of the universe. Dead.

Charles's brow furrowed as he thought. Cerebro had detected Emmaline on the high school's doorstep... literally. Where was she going? Why had she left? Hours ago she had been unable to move. Now she had somehow made it all the way to Bayville High.

When they finally made it there, they didn't see Emmaline. He had decided to bring the New Mutants along too as most of them were closer to Emma than the older mutants. They decided to spread out. He wished them all luck, and told them if they found her, report back to the Blackbird

_immediately._

**Ray's POV**

Ray was tired of this. Emma this, Emma that—who cared? Everyone in this world was suffering. Xavier was far too kind and soft, in his opinion; no one could possibly help everyone out there.

Bored, Ray carelessly kicked a stone out of his way, wishing he were doing anything but this. Suddenly, he spotted movement. There Emma was, huddled in a corner of the building. Ray jogged over there, and rolling his eyes, grabbed her arm.

The world exploded. He could feel everyone here, living, breathing, hearts beating. Ray tried to scream, but felt the air ripped out of his lungs. Something blue and furry whipped in front of his face, a puff of smoke, and they were dangling off of the cliff in front of the mansion.

Ray was falling through the air, and then he met rock. His ribs cracked, and he couldn't move. A heavy thing on his chest kept him from inhaling, and the world around him pressed close, a final hug good bye. Hot liquid was in his mouth, and he coughed up blood, wanting to be sick. The terrible smell of water was surrounding him, taking him away, then—

Black.

I was me again. It had all happened so quickly—Ray had touched me, and we became one for a brief moment. Then Ray screamed, and Kurt poofed in front of us. When Kurt touched me and tried to bring us to the jet, I brought him to the cliff. To this day, I still don't know why I did that. Kurt and I were fine, collapsing on the edge, but Ray fell. Down, down down to the bottom. I saw him crumpled, water washing over his body. He was alive—his heart was pulsing, small, but still there, light and beautiful.

I dived down after him, to the bottom. I was unscathed. Kurt's eyes widened, and he BAMFed down to catch me, and POOFed Ray and I up to the top. I fell to my knees, and my head went down as tears poured down. Then the fire inside me flared up, and the coals were kindled, moved by the stench of death, an unnecessary death—just like them all.

My fire went into him. I held him in my arms, and the river of life flowed to him. When he had enough to fill his heart, I hugged him. I couldn't let go; death is the embrace of time, and life is the kiss of love.

Then I knew how to die.

I would die for Ray.

So, I gave in, and my life ebbed into him, and I tried to lose my memories. I embraced death, and in turn, death brought me there. Yet life's kiss had the blessing to allow death to let me go. The light was here again, pure blinding white. Why couldn't I go?

The tears pored forth, yet no one here could ever understand, except Ray.

**Bit of a cliffhanger, I suppose. :) How did you like it? Please review! :) Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! I'll try to update soon. :D**

**flying feather scribbles**


	12. Once Sombody, now nobody- Change

**Hi- I'm back! :) Here's the next chapter; I hope you like it. Tell me what you think is going to happen; I'm curious! **

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own x-men evo, just the idea, Emmaline, + any poetry.**

**Chapter 12**

**EMMA'S POV**

_Dear nobody._

_Where have you gone?_

Dear somebody.

Please come back?

_Dear nobody._

_I don't care._

Dear somebody.

I do care.

_Dear nobody._

_You can't be lost._

Dear somebody.

You can't be found.

I.

Was.

Alive.

Once my heart was beating.

Once upon I time I was there.

Once I cared.

Once I couldn't be found.

Once I was somebody.

Now.

My heart throbs.

I am gone.

I don't care.

I can't be lost.

I.

Am.

nobody.

The beeping of the monitor annoyed me. It was a constant reminder of just how alive I was.

Yes, alive.

I had survived.

Yet I was nobody.

The memories were still there. But they weren't mine; at least not anymore. Because I was nobody, and those memories were Somebody's.

I was split in two. Now, each breath put sharp shivers through Ray's body, and so forth mine. We were inseparable. I had heard the professor and Mr. McCoy talking. About Somebody. Apparently they didn't know that I was nobody.

You see, when you are dead on the inside, there is no hope for your outside. It is your shell, and all it does is preserve the bones that used to hold you up. Without Somebody you become nobody.

So here I was. A breathing shell.

My eyelids flickered open. Drowsiness clouded my mind like a thick fog, and it was hard to remember Somebody. But She was still there.

The monitor had gone on beeping despite my sleeping. I knew I should be wondering how long I had been nobody, but I still didn't care. Faintly, the memory of warm blood clung to me, before I came upon something.

It was beautiful. Like angels singing, the morning birds twittering their sweet harmonies. It was the gold of heaven itself, and nobody smiled inside, the warmth briefly lighting up Somebody. It was...

Silence.

For the first time in so long, what felt like forever, it was quiet. The only thing in my head was nobody—there was no other conscious thought.

The glory.

It could have been the best moment of my very own experience as me, if I had been Somebody.

But I wasn't.

Ray was.

**Professor Xavier's POV**

Charles frowned; this couldn't be right. Ray was alive. He was more than alive; he was in a state which Charles, in all his years, had only seen in one other person.

Emma.

_Ray writhed in agony. Images were before his eyes, hideous and joyful, that no one would have wished upon even the most treacherous being. Memories carried sorrow and pain, with everyone screaming their souls to him. Lights blinded his vision as spots danced behind his head. _

_This wasn't the worst, though. There were dead—people? Everywhere, they surrounded him. Cold, and ghastly, he wanted to scream. _

_Torture._

_He wanted to die._

_And it had only been one minute._

Death's embrace,

End to love's everlasting chase.

See the light's face

Fringed with a pure white lace

Sealed in a crystal and diamond case

And his hearts race

Stopped.

**So? What do you think? Yes? No? Where do you think this is going? What's going to happen next?**

**I'm a teensy bit sorry about the teeny cliffhanger, but I couldn't find a good place to stop, so this is where it ended up. **

**Please review! I would really appreciate it. Thanks for reading!**

**-flying feather scribbles**


	13. Ever heard of the end of the world?

**Hi everyone! Sorry it's been a long time since I've updated... thank you for all the reviews in chapter 12:**

**aven91**

**StrawberryM&M**

**Sonar**

**DISCALIMER: How many times need I say it? I own nothing but Emmaline, the idea, any poetry- nothing else! I DO NOT own X-Men: Evolution!**

**Chapter 13**

Gasping, I woke. For the first time in my life, the only thoughts in my head were my own. I felt... so weak yet so powerful. I was... human feeling. Like how most people think and feel everyday.

No... I had had it... and realization hit me like a slap in the face.

Ray had Someone.

He was as good as dead, and I knew it. I had been him before- twice. He wasn't made for this. The tears stung, as they ran silver ribbons down my cheeks. In my stomach, there was this horrible pit, unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was MY sorrow... MY sadness...

I was just me; no one else. I had my mind to myself- I could wander the world by myself.

Once that had seemed so... tantalizing. Now, the idea of such silence seemed so _solitary._

And- there was a pang of something cold and icy...

_Guilt._ I had felt it so many times before, but never as my own.

Ray wasn't alone anymore. He had all of _them._ He had my mutation.

But he had more than that-

He had... my _other_ thing. The thing that had puzzled all of them.

He had my mother's curse and her gift. The thing that somehow, I must have inherited. My mom... could see the dead. Speak to them. She fought them and saved them. But... it had somehow become dormant when she had me. And... I had inherited the curse.

Ray had three mutations to deal with now... and the burden of the entire world.

If he though it was hard when he had one mutation and a messed-up family-wait until he woke. If he ever did; part of me doubted that he was even alive. I could no longer feel earth's life and death. Ray could have done so many things-

he had no control.

Well, we all had our lives.

_Close your eyes._

_'Cause it's over._

_No need to sigh-_

_dear old lover._

_This ain't no lie._

_We're all through and done._

_And the fault; it's all mine._

_Say good-bye, my sun._

This was... the worst mistake in the history of the planet- and that is saying something.

I wished I could help, but I'm useless for anything but a pawn for others, apparently. I guessed good always died, and we never could prevail.

Because I was made to destroy the planet.

And it would have happened eventually, but I wanted to push it away, procrastinate the end. At least this way, the entire solar system couldn't;t be destroyed- just earth.

And it was all my fault.

**Please review- waddya think?**

**-flying feather scribbles**


	14. A Shadow

**Hey! Hi! Sorry, I know it's been a REALLY long time since I've updated... anyways, please read- and reviews, (even anonymous!) are GREATLY APPRECIATED!**

**Disclaimer: don't own X-Men: Evolution, just the idea and Emmaline!**

**Chapter 14**

_**Emma's POV**_

Her words were thick and syrupy, laden with morbid distaste. The bad ones tumbled out of her mouth, enormous boulders, heavy with sadness, while the pleasant ones dissolved as they came, never to see any sunshine but theirs.

It was odd, watching her. The girl I had once been. Going through the motions of eating, of sleeping, of living. And here I was... sitting on a chair, watching her stare right through me, as if I didn't exist, because to her, I didn't. Not anymore, anyways.

I was distinctly separate from the bitter shadow of myself I saw right here, the one in front of me—the one who knew all yet did nothing. Not that she couldn't—she could; and that was exactly why I hated her. She was the one who bore the news, all of which was bad. So, I had become the shadow of a shadow. Thanks to my mother, who, it seemed, still had enough of an impression on me that I could remember the years of buried memories, of sorrowful tears, of broken hearts.

This girl was telling everyone of the end of the world. She was once me... once me. A pitiful figure, whose every feature told of her broken heart.

_Hearts can't be mended with tape. _

I could remember... the sun. The sun, who smiled down on me—most days. Far too many others, that ever-cheerful face didn't smile anymore; she just vanished. Like me...

Why does the bad always outdo the good?

A basic question, one that has been repeated throughout history in many forms, shaped by hollow mouths. Oh, sure, there were a few grins but the years of gore far outnumbered the moments of joy.

And here that question was, once again being shaped by another person's broken face as she crumbled into dust, to be swept away by the harsh, unforgiving winds.

That was why I left.

To get away from her, the truth-teller. The one who bore everyone's pain, and still knew it was there even if she couldn't see it, and still tried to hold it for others.

But I was sick of her, and I still am. I have told you my story, and I wish it ended here—I wish that here, I died.

Yet, obviously, I still hung on by a thread, so the story must go on.

So, I was tired of the girl who cared for everyone. Hence, I stood up and walked out the door, as Professor Xavier wheeled himself in, followed by a trail of the students' whispers. Outside, in the hallway, I heard them all, floating by, as they were blinded by assumptions.

"_It's the Apocalypse again, isn't it?"_

This one voice rang through my head like the morning bells.

The Apocalypse. Yes, but in a different story, because this time it was mine.

The end of the world was mine.

_Of course it is. Whose else would it be?_

I whirled around, but no one was there. Just the faint whisper of... bitterness. I followed, slipping past the children who could not see me. Finally, after an eternity of thoughts, I reached another part of the mansion. I had been here before, yet never before, if you know what I mean—which you don't.

I walked in. On a bed, lay a limp figure.

I blinked in shock, when I saw who it was.

Then—

The end of the world begun.

**Sorry for that cliffhanger. :) **

**I'll try to update sometime soon! :) But, be warned, I might get caught up in life, so yeah... be warned!**

**Oh, and if you have any ideas for a quote or saying for my other fic, Quotes and Jokes, please PM me or leave it in a review (either her or on any of my other fics), because I'm stumped. **

**-flying feather scribbles**


	15. How They See It

**Hello, dear readers! Sorry it's been so long. But, at last, I will update!**

**DISCLAIMER: Need I say it again? I do NOT own X-Men: Evolution- only the idea, any poetry, the writing itself, and my OC Emmaline.**

**Chapter 15: How they see it.**

~~It was over. Finally over. Kitty blinked back tears as she tried to stand, trembling, but fell to her knees. Where was everyone? Where was she? This world couldn't be hers. These ruins couldn't be the mansion. It wasn't possible; no one person could possibly cause all this damage. ~~

Yet it was, and I had done it. Now I felt empty. I knew how she had always been, and why she was so distant. I had always known the world to be a cruel place, from my first baby years when my dad beat me to my teenage years when I wandered on the streets.

Part of me wondered if I even had a name anymore. It had once been Ray. But I wasn't him anymore, because this wasn't what Ray felt like.

Laughter, bitter and hollow.

Cold and distant,

The lifeless breeze

Blew through the leafless trees

And those bodies, people were once these.

I knew the earth, but this… this wasn't earth. The ghostly part of me stood, and I, Emmaline Carlson, left someone behind. I calmly strolled through the mansion, to Ray's room in the place that had once been the infirmary. I touched him, and two became one.

It was an odd place inside his head, as I realized while I searched for Someone. I could remember here; I had been here before.

I jerked myself away from Ray's memories and resumed my solemn procession through his mind until I found Someone. There She was, revering in the blaze of power.

That's thing I remember, before everything went black. Before I was gone.

_- Some time later, in the present day-_

I think I'm dead. We're pretty much caught up to the present day now. I'm not really sure how long I've been dead or in a coma, because I just keep repeating this over and over, wishing I could sense the world around me like the normal people I've been.

Now, I have to ask myself—who are you? Why are you listening to this story? How did you come across me? I wasn't aware anyone knew who I was anymore. I often wonder—does my world even exist anymore?

**Go on, review and answer Emma's questions. I'm not updating until you either give them to me through a review or PM. Come on! **

**-flying feather scribbles**


	16. Letting Go

**Um, hey, anybody who may still be reading this. ;-) So, I haven't been on or updated or a REALLY LONG TIME, sorry about that. Now I'll finish up the fic… but there will be a sequel! Don't worry… ;-) And I promise my writing will be better in the sequel. J**

**DISCLAIMER: For the last time, don't own X-Men: Evolution, just my OC Emmaline and any poetry + the idea for the fic, everything else belongs to some rich person who owns the company who produce the TV show.**

**Chapter 16: Letting Go**

_In the process of letting go you will lose many things from the past, but you will find yourself._

_-Deepak Chopra_

I blink, and the light before me distorts itself, then becomes clear. Rubbing my sore eyelids, I sit up. I am surrounded by walls, creamy white walls, with plush brown carpet covering the floor. There is a window, with the flowery curtains drawn back, and I can see green, green grass. All the colors are so vibrant and fresh, they hurt my eyes. I am laying on a firm bed, covered with a pink quilt. The room is warm and quiet, a rather peaceful place for a body so wracked by sorrows. Then I remember. My name.

Emmaline.

I can remember the fear, the death, the destruction. Then I remember the dreams. So, so many dreams. Beautiful, glorious, sad dreams. Conversations about the past. My heart swells as I remember the Universe. However, I remember what happened at Xavier's, and shame fills my entire being.

The door creaks open, and an old, bald man in a wheelchair enters with a redheaded young woman with a rather pronounced, rotund stomach. I can scarcely recognize the faces whose lives I ruined, but the names are still there: Professor Charles Xavier and Jean Grey. Their faces have aged many a year, and I can see the hidden thoughts behind their eyes. Quickly, I avert my eyes to their foreheads, away from the two pairs of wise, piercing eyes that are so blissfully ignorant of my experiences.

"Emma," Professor Xavier says. I stare at him, unmoving like a mountain. "Emma," he sadly repeats, looking at me with unbearable sorrow. All I see in Jean's eyes is the sickening sight of pity. I'm not angry, though. I can't be angry anymore.

"How long?"

Professor Xavier frowns at me. "What do you mean?"

"How much time has passed since I've… um…" I falter, uncertain about what to call my 'sleep'.

"Oh. Well, I do not believe you have aged in the least." I lift my hands, and, surely enough, they are just as smooth as before.

"That's not what I mean. How much has the world aged?" I demand.

"Five years."

I stare. Then I feel Jean projecting something to me, and dozens of images pour into my mind. I close my eyes and succumb to the memories' call.

When I open my eyes to the present again, I cannot believe how much has happened. The institute was rebuilt here, and I guess that's where I am now. Marriages, birthdays- the world kept on living the joys of Life without me.

"Congratulations," I tell Jean. "Is Scott happy? Boy or girl?"

Jean laughs nervously. "Oh, we're both thrilled. We're going to wait to find out until the baby's born." She smiles at me.

I turn to Professor Xavier. "I'm ready to go. This isn't the place for me. I need to start over. With a clean slate."

Professor Xavier meets my gaze, a mixture of knowing and sadness mingled in his eyes. Jean gapes. "Do you mean- wipe your memory?!"

I nod, slowly. "Just of the Institute. Clean me of those painful memories. Leave the happy ones. If there are any. Leave a vague outline of my childhood. Leave who I am alone, up to when I ran away."

Gravely, the Professor says, "Are you sure? Memories shape who we are."

"I know. But some… drag us down. I want to live. I don't have long, but… I want those years to count."

Jean looks at me with absolute bewilderment, at a loss for words. Professor Xavier, though, says, "There will be no going back, Emmaline. We will miss you. There will always be a place for you here, you know."

I shake my head, knowing I have nothing left here. There is no use trying to piece together what's long gone. Then I lay back down. The last thing I feel is cold fingers, then as though someone is rifling the pages of my mind and folding some so you can't see them anymore. At last, there is a cooling feeling, and-

Peace.

**Okay. I swear, there is a sequel. However, the sequel WILL be in the Ultimate Spider-Man universe. I really hope you liked this fic, and that you'll read the sequel. ;-) Farewell for now, fine, dear readers!**

**-Flying Feather Scribbles**


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